


No Half Measures

by Huggle



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Desperation, Dubious Consent, Fear, Fusco has issues, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 02:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huggle/pseuds/Huggle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fusco's desperate - everything is closing in on him.  If he has only one way out, then he's going to take it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Half Measures

Reese met him not far from the old Henley Factory, abandoned maybe some ten years now. Fusco wondered if the big guy knew how many meetings he’d been in on in that building. Dope deals, pay offs, once watching some crackhead get his throat slit for dropping a dime on them.

Probably, he figured. Making another point. How easy it’d be to just make a phone call, send a package to the DA. Fusco had a lot of skeletons in his closet, and he had a feeling Reese knew about every single one.

“I need the record on this boy,” Reese said, and handed him a slip of paper. 

Fusco read it, shoved it in his pocket. When Reese started to get out of the car, he grabbed the suit’s arm.

Reese froze and Fusco let him go fast. “Uh, look, I’m kind of in a situation here.”

Reese turned to look at him. “I know you are, Lionel. Do we need to have a discussion about personal space?”

Fusco glared at him, his worry making him bold despite the risk. “We need to have a discussion, period. IA’s been nosing around me. Too much going on, I’m drawing some heat.”

“Occupational hazard of being a dirty cop, Lionel. Not sure what it’s got to do with me.”

“Stills is what it’s got to do with you. Ever since you offed him, all his laundry’s on display. People are asking questions, like how could I be working with him and not know.”

“You did know.”

“Fuck me, you going to help me out here or not?”

“Again,” Reese said, his voice low and hard. “I’m not sure what it’s got to do with me.”

“If I go down, no more favours,” Fusco said. “No more record checks on the fly, no more digging in to things you can’t. And I know enough about you and your friend to make things awkward.”

“I could make sure you don’t go to prison, Lionel,” Reese said.

Fusco didn’t feel relieved by his tone. “Look, I didn’t mean-”

“I could make sure you don’t get out of this car.”

Fusco watched him, pretty sure it wasn’t an empty threat. “I’ve got a kid,” he said. “I can’t go to jail. What’ll it take? You and your boss, I know you’ve got resources. Pull. You must have. What do I need to do?”

“Get me the record,” Reese said, and then he got out of the car.

::

The next day, he made an IA tail. They followed him to the station, and though he lost them later on in midtown traffic, he saw them again when he picked up his boy from school. 

Furious, he had his son stay in the car and then crossed the street to where the men were parked.

“You kidding me? Following me when I’m with my kid?”

They didn’t even acknowledge him. 

Fusco kicked the driver’s door and went back to his car.

::

Reese texted him that afternoon, with a place to meet.

Fusco hesitated, then texted him back. Maybe if the tall guy knew IA were on him, he’d back off.

Reese’s reply was brief and specific. _So lose them_.

Fusco did.

::

“You don’t think this is going to make me look more suspicious?” he snapped at Reese.

Reese settled himself in the passenger seat and gave the barest of shrugs. “You are suspicious, Lionel. Trying to act like you’re not is only going to make them surer that you’re guilty of something.”

Fusco snorted at him and looked away. 

Reese snapped his fingers a couple of times, and Fusco reached under his seat and dragged the file out. He gave it over, and then rested his hands on the steering wheel.

“I go to jail, what’s going to happen to my kid? Not to mention me running into some people inside who might not be too happy to see me.”

“These seem to be all your problems, Lionel. I don’t know why you think they’ve become mine.”

“Fuck you,” Fusco said. It was stupid, he knew it, but he snatched the folder right out of Reese’s hands and threw it on the back seat. “You really don’t give a-” 

Reese was on him, striking sharp and sudden. Fusco tried to heave a breath in as the tall man shoved him back against the driver’s door and squeezed his throat shut. 

“Don’t do that again, Lionel. I seem to have to keep educating you in what’s acceptable behaviour. Maybe I’m getting a little tired of it.”

He leaned in close enough that their faces were almost touching. Fusco tried to shove him away, but it was like trying to move a rock slab, so he settled for grabbing at Reese’s arms.

The guy had tone, more than was suggested by the trim of his suit.

Finally, the pressure around his neck eased, but Reese didn’t back off. His breath was warm on Fusco’s cheek.

“Is that it,” he groused, voice hoarse. “You want a free ride? That’s what it’ll take?”

Reese leaned back. For the first time since they’d met in that alley, when Reese had been caught off guard, Fusco felt like he’d taken him by surprise.

“Fine,” he said, and reached behind him to open the car door. He tumbled out, landed roughly, but what did it matter? He got onto his knees and made a come on gesture to Reese. “Let’s get it over with.”

Reese got out of the car, came around it slowly until he was standing in front of him. Fusco didn’t look away; he wasn’t going to give the bastard the satisfaction. He hadn’t ever done this before, hadn’t ever imagined he would have to. Stills had made everything ok, made it seem ok anyway. 

Now it was all falling in on itself, and he was on his knees offering fucking everything to some guy who’d just showed up one day and ruined it all.

Reese didn’t move. Fusco cursed at him and reached up to undo his fly.

When Reese’s hands closed on his wrists, Fusco steadied himself. Wouldn’t surprise him if Reese’s pleasure was other people’s pain.

He wasn’t expecting to be hauled to his feet. Reese shoved him back behind the wheel, and closed the door over.

His window was still down. Reese leaned forward.

“Unless they find Stills’ body, they have nothing concrete to tie you to anything. So just don’t do anything stupid. If you don’t cross me, Lionel, you’ll be fine.”

Fusco watched him cross the empty forecourt of the derelict building, disappear inside. He sat there for a few minutes, waiting for his heart to settle, his nerves to calm.

He couldn’t keep this up for much longer; something had to give, and he would rather it was that bastard in the suit than him.


End file.
